


Hart Song

by Galahard



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: GA but still has language, I'm way too addicted to soulmate aus for my own good, M/M, Soulmate AU, because if you liked Kingsman well enough to read a fic, inspired by how soulmates find each other in Happy Feet, symphony au, with heart songs, you can obviously handle some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galahard/pseuds/Galahard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Concept inspired by Happy Feet, where people find their soulmates via singing together and clicking that way.</p><p>--------</p><p>There were pages upon pages of half finished songs that filled his workspace, not a single one complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hart Song

Harry Hart didn't sing. Not vocally at least, but his fingers sang for him. His left hand directed the pitches from his cello's strings, calluses well worn on the pads of his fingers. His right hand coaxed the notes from the instrument, soft, airy whispers and bold, demanding cries.

There were pages upon pages of half finished songs that filled his workspace, not a single one complete. Still he was well-known among the right circles, and even among the regular population his name wasn't exactly unknown. His albums sold remarkably well for someone who still performed strictly the classics. A master at calling forth the works of the great composers.

He was happy enough. Content. Satisfied. There was order in his life and he wanted for nothing, save perhaps a singing voice that sounded less like a cat in heat. But he'd long since resigned himself to that misfortune, and the Kingsman symphony orchestra was home enough.

\---------

"Ah, there you are Harry. I'd wondered where you'd run off to."

He raised an eyebrow at the saying, the idea of him running about the building quite absurd. "I hadn't realized you were looking for me, Merlin."

“I thought I'd try to find you before Chester did. He's fuming."

"Didn't you just have a meeting with the Board of Directors?" He couldn't help his curiosity and by the look in Merlin's eyes he knew he had him hooked.

"Indeed we did. And they want our next concert to be something other than the norm." There was a gleam in his eye, the same one that was always there when he had a chance to do something that would annoy Chester.

“Oh? Is it _Fantasia_? I’ve told him for years it would attract a younger crowd, and he could hardly complain about the score.”

“When they told him what they had in mind he actually suggested _Fantasia_ himself.”

Something that had their conductor _offering_ to do something as gimmicky as he found _Fantasia_?

“Well, you see, there’s this kid on YouTube.” Merlin let his voice trail off, grinning, and Harry couldn’t help the huff of delighted laughter that escaped. He’d tried to advocate for nontraditional performances before, had suggested pieces that weren’t so well known, had even brought in a young man from south London that was known for his improvisation for an internship that had Chester scowling until his unfortunate accident. Just because he preferred the classics didn’t mean it wasn’t time for something new.

“Seems he’s done quite a few remixes of some famous classical songs, and a lot of his blends use some of our recordings. Older stuff mostly, gives credit and I guess it brings enough positive attention that the Board’s happy. I listened to some of the videos. He’s good. He’s really good. They’ve approached him and he’s going to come in to see if there’s a way we can translate his work into a live show. They actually want to put my stage managing skills to use and do some visuals, but he said he specifically wanted to meet you during the planning process. He’s supposed to be up here next week.

Harry frowned, wanting to ask a question but not even sure what to ask, but that was when Chester chose to round the corner, spotting him and quickening his pace, face a stormcloud. Ever since he’d lost his soulmate (to Beatlemania, Chester simply couldn’t cope with that and had vowed never to see her again) he’d turned into a hard man, and while he got along with Harry alright he was no joy to be around. He was forever lording something over him, but it was often better to just go along with it until it was time to fight for what really mattered.

Like a solo at the Christmas concert. “Wish me luck,” he murmured at Merlin, strolling past him and heading toward their conductor who looked as if he was planning out how to murder someone in their sleep.

In other words? It was a Tuesday.

\--------

The chav standing in front of him was pretty much what he expected. Of course, it’s not who he would have expected when he first watched one of the video’s Merlin had linked him to. The first video had been purely music, and it was like nothing he’d really heard before.

Oh, he’d heard the remixes. The rhythmic versions of classical pieces, twisted and dropping into heavy electronic beats. He’d heard lyrics from pop songs set to older music. 

But in this his playing had been left entirely intact.

Some of the other instruments had been stripped from the recordings, he could tell, knowing very well what the original had sounded like, and he had no idea how the audio had been edited or masked in such a manner. Other instruments and beats wove in, making his part the melody, lifting it, heightening the part in a way he’d never heard it before, even when he was practicing and had nothing else to focus on but his own music.

Then he’d found a video of the young man thanking his viewers and answering questions, sitting in a room with a pair of obnoxiously bright and huge headphones on, grinning at the screen. So no, the young man was not a surprise.

The knowledge that he was personally accountable for a view on almost all of his videos was slightly more so, but Harry just put on a pleasant expression, perhaps not an actual smile though, and held out his hand. “Harry Hart.”

“Yeah, I know who you is. Eggsy.” He met his hand with a firm grip, and Harry felt, well, relaxed, really.

Chester was the one who was tense. Snappish mostly, stalking down hallways without explanation, half-covering topics and giving the shittiest tour Harry had ever seen of the performing arts center. 

It was mostly a relief when he was called away, briskly telling Harry to finish up and abandoning them near the stage.

The door had barely shut before Eggsy was speaking. “He’s a right fucking prick, ain’t he?”

Harry blinked, not really expecting the words, but he couldn’t disagree. Not outright. “You learn to listen to his advice when it’s good, he is an expert at what he does, and as for the rest? It’s meaningless. Now then, we rushed through much of the tour so did you have any questions for us or do you need to go back to see anything?”

“Nah, I was just here to meet you.” The young man had shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, words so matter of fact that Harry didn’t think to doubt them.

“That’s a lot of trouble just to meet me,” Harry had to point out.

“Yeah? Well I might want the job too. Mainly here because of my dad though. Mum said he was here because of you, figured I’d come see you for myself.”

“Who might your father be?”

“Lee Unwin.”

Harry felt it click into place, mentally berating himself for not seeing the similarities between the two. It certainly made sense now that he was looking for it. “Of course. You’re father was a very talented man. He had a wonderful ear for improvisation and his vibrato was very natural.”

“Yeah, for some reason just about the only thing I can’t play is the fucking cello, go figure. He had a couple of your cassettes, and some of the full Kingsman orchestra, so I grew up wearing those tapes out. Figured my first song may as well be something I grew up with, yeah? Worked out okay and here I am.” He shrugged, looking around. “Always found you guys’ recordings easier to work with than anything else actually.”

“Your work is good,” Harry said, voice a touch blunt and he continued on with the same tone. “I’m not sure how you’re going to translate it to a live orchestra and on stage. It won’t work to play some canned accompaniment with a video on the screen.”

“I got that much. Figured being here would give me some ideas, probably got to do a new arrangement anyway. What do you think the old man will choose? 'Für Elise?' 'The Nutcracker Suite?'”

A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “There’s no telling. For you? Perhaps the 'Hallelujah Chorus.'”

“Just what I always wanted,” Eggsy deadpanned, glancing past him as the door opened.

“It seems it’s already time for rehearsal,” Harry remarked, glancing at his watch. “Can you come back tomorrow at the same time? We can work through a few more specifics or do a few tests now that you’re somewhat familiar with the setup of the building.”

“Tomorrow’s fine.” Harry saw him to the door before turning back to tune his cello before Arthur swept back into the room.

\----------

Lancelot walked by, singing cheerfully as he lugged along his bass, and if Harry never heard "Never Going to Give You Up" one more time he could perhaps die a happy man. Percival walked past him headed in the opposite direction, viola tucked under his arm, wearing a slightly exasperated expression as he was unable to resist joining in the song that had brought the two together.

He was fucking blessed it was Percival and not him that got saddled with that song, as much as he liked Lance.

It was early still for him, ordinarily he’d just be leaving his house and yet he’d already been here practicing for some time, taking up one of the private studios. He had to fight back a yawn as he moved toward the entrance to wait for the young man, exhausted from staying up, inspired to work on one of his original compositions but still unable to finish it.

He wasn’t waiting for long when a cab drove up, Eggsy emerging and hauling out an electric keyboard as he did so. Harry couldn’t help but frowning, mind flitting to the baby grand in the studios and the grand piano on stage, but the electronic noise would probably fit better with what Eggsy had planned. Though what one keyboard could do was beyond him. 

Then he noticed the backpack and realized that the young man was really hauling around a fair amount of equipment.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Nah, I got everything but the doors. You got them?”

“Of course, Eggsy. Follow me, I have a practice room reserved.”

He could see the curious looks as they passed by people, Merlin flat out smirking at the sight of the keyboard, but it didn’t take long to find his room, his cello sitting in it’s stand, waiting for his return.

“Seeing as you brought along your keyboard is it safe to presume you’ve had some ideas?”

“Yeah.” Eggsy laid it down on the ground, pulling out a cord from his backpack and hooking it up before sitting in front of it, pulling out a laptop and turning it on, fingers darting across the keyboard as he spoke. “I think I’m just going to have to come up with some new accompaniments that make more use of the full orchestra. I always liked muting them and pulling out the cello, or using some of your solos honestly, and I might have to ask for them to not play in some parts, but you can get a lot done with some beats and a keyboard. Figured I can use one of my programs for the rhythm today and maybe we can see about finding someone live for the actual performance.”

He looked up and shrugged before setting his computer to one side. “Honestly it might not work, and we’ll probably need some other instruments, but I thought maybe we could try something today. Do you remember Elgar’s 'Cello concerto in E minor?'” 

He held out some sheet music and Harry took it, eyes darting over the notes as he nodded. It was something he had played early in his career, and he’d heard the version Eggsy had put up online. Not the full song of course, but there were stars to mark a stanza, and it looked to be where it had started. in the video. “It’s been awhile since I’ve played it,” he admitted, arranging the music on the stand.”

“Since it’s something I’ve worked on I thought maybe we should start on that. You playing, I’ll add in the beat with the laptop, then join in with the keyboard. See if it sounds like shit or if it might work and we’ll just have to imagine the rest of the orchestra for now.”

Harry nodded, pulling his cello to him and running his fingers through the first several stanzas of notes without drawing his bow, remembering the melody. “I’ll start a couple of stanzas before your mark,” he murmured, half to himself, then counted out the tempo.

The stanzas he was playing were mostly harmony until the mark, but it got him back into the song. The beat joined him at the mark, the noise expected and surprisingly not too distracting. It wasn’t altering his tempo but accompanying it, and he continued to play as the music dictated. The keyboard was the same way, though he hadn’t expected the clipped electronic notes with the way it was set. Still, it actually sounded good. Modern, twisting the song in a way he’d never be able to, but yet somehow he was still the star of it.

A couple of minutes later he reached another starred stanza and he drew the piece to a close, looking up see Eggsy fiddling with the computer to turn off the beat before looking up and flashing him a grin. “I think it fucking works.”

“You’re on the right track,” Harry said, nodding his head. “However you may be right about choosing other songs. People that have watched your videos will pick apart the differences. Not that a new arrangement is bad, but there are critics out there that take great pleasure in ripping into performances.”

“Fair enough. Guess we got to figure out what songs to work with, and I don’t think that prick from yesterday is going to be much help.”

“Chester? Probably not. However there might be some things the orchestra did a few years ago that we could polish up without too much trouble, I could probably look into some of that for you.”

“That’d be bloody brilliant. For today you just want to play something? I’ll see if I come up with anything. If it won’t bother you too fucking much? Just get some ideas out there.”

Harry leveled a look at him, unimpressed by his insinuation. “I’ve been part of numerous chamber orchestras playing for weddings with open bars. There’s not too much you can do to distract me from performing.”

He smirked at Eggsy’s surprised laugh, then turned his attention to his cello. There was only a moment of hesitation before he started playing, choosing an instantly recognizably piece, Grieg’s "In the Hall of the Mountain King." After a moment Eggsy joined in, keyboard set to sound like brass, weaving in and out of his melody. 

The song ended and he chose something more unfamiliar, a concerto from Vivaldi, and that lead into another piece by Haydn.

There was only a brief pause between pieces, the two of them not really talking, Harry rosining his bow when necessary, and it wasn’t until he’d started the next piece, a swift beat joining in that he realized it was one of his originals, and not one of the classical pieces at all.

He almost panicked, knowing it wasn’t finished, but there was a part where he could draw it to a somewhat awkward close later on. Perhaps Eggsy wouldn’t notice.

Then the keyboard came in.

He’d changed the settings again, but it was a fairly normal keyboard setting, letting the notes speak for themselves. His left hand walked the keys, setting up a familiar pattern in the lower register, letting Harry’s cello provide the melody and then adding little twists with his right hand, traveling the upper length of the keyboard, trills and embellishments that just felt _right_.

After several minutes they were winding down, the music coming to a natural conclusion, the air in the room electric, and as he looked up, staring at the young man, the realization washed over him.

The piece hadn’t been finished.

None of his pieces had ever been finished.

That song hadn’t merely been finished. It was complete.

“I can’t sing,” he blurted out, and that in and of itself was shocking. Him, blurting something out.

“My mates say I sound like a cat in heat,” Eggsy admitted, staring at him and even when they’d both fell silent his lips were parted, mouth hanging open slightly as the corners of Harry’s mouth turned upward.

“Apparently our voices are matched then,” he acknowledged and it was worth it to see Eggsy smile.

\---------

He glanced over to see Eggsy messing with the tie around his neck and with a sigh Harry pulled his hand away, tugging it into position one last time. “It’s perfect,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Eggsy’s forehead. “Leave it alone.”

“You sure? Looks a bit to the left.”

“Trust me, once you start playing they’re not going to notice anything else.” There was the sound of polite clapping from the other side of the curtain and he reached down to give Eggsy’s hand a quick squeeze. He could understand the apprehension, it was just the two of them taking the stage for the opening verse, before the curtain lifted and the rest of the orchestra joined in. Playing _their_ song for the world to hear. However, rather than apprehensive he was excited, ready to showcase his ridiculously talented soulmate for the world to see.

“Right then,” Eggsy said, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders as he glanced over at him, a mischievous look in his eyes as he slapped Harry’s arse and started forward. “Let’s go blow their fucking minds.”


End file.
